The Teutonic family lived in a valley that was not very concave, and there were two roads out of the valley.

A wide and flat passage was used by the Teutonic Knights to go to the battlefield or for other vassals to come to discuss and pay respects.

The other is a small road, not to mention the rugged road, but also full of large and small stones, round and without sharp edges and corners, which looks harmless to people and animals, but it cannot be ridden by horses.

It is also the path that generations of members of the Teutonic family have walked on the hills.

Because of the unwritten rule, all Teutonic members must choose to take this path into the valley for whatever reason, except for the need to return from their horses to report an emergency.

Once, the young Atwood thought it was strange.

And his father and brother told him that this was an ancestral precept, which was observed by the Teutonic throughout the ages, and it was good to continue to follow it as a descendant, and there was no need to explore the cause.

And when Atwood started learning to ride, he complained again.

The ancestral precepts can't be changed, but you can take a break from the path!

In this regard, his father, the last Duke of Teuton, just smiled and comforted him that no matter how difficult the road is, there will be an end, and it is good to be patient and put away his complaints.

But Atwood still couldn't get it.

After all, whether there is an end to the road has nothing to do with whether the road is built or not!

It's just that when he asks questions again, his father no longer responds positively, but blindly says that you will know when you grow up.

Atwood, who was only seven years old at the time, didn't want to wait too long for an answer.

So he went to ask John, the eldest brother, who had already celebrated his coming-of-age ceremony and had become a member of the Teutonic Order.

John didn't perfunctory him with big reasoning.

Instead, he said solemnly that the Teutonic family was a family that thrived in the cold and frozen soil, born for duty and oath, and that every member of the family would not have a life of fine food and pampering, and would fight hard all his life to fight against centaurs. All Teutonic life is as rugged and difficult as the road under your feet, full of thorns and bumps, and only by adhering to the family motto of "never give up" can you face life fearlessly.

The unwritten rule of the ancestors was to slow down the pace of each Teuton's home, and to have enough time to think about the appropriateness of what he was doing when he went out. Before returning to the warmth of the room, think about whether your duties as a Teuton have been accomplished.

Today, Atwood chose to take this path home.

The weeds on both sides of the road not only reach people's waists, but also spread into the path, taking root and growing in the gaps between large and small stones, announcing that everything changes with the times.

Leading the horse on foot, he also felt that things were wrong when he looked back on what he had done, according to John's teachings back then.

As a Teuton, he actually made a deal with the Teutons' old enemies, the Centaurs.....

Perhaps, the other Teutons will take away my surname if they know about it, and draw their swords to meet me?

He laughed self-deprecatingly.

Slowly raise your head and look at the valley at the end of the path.

The once lively home is now silent, and even the air is silent.

The brown mountains bare the old chests, and the dry mountain walls are barren with no grass, stretching endless loneliness.

Vast is its most appropriate background color.

The low walls on the periphery are riddled with holes, and the dense nettles that cling to them leave a thick layer of mottling after winter; The interior of the house made of stone and adobe is also crumbling after being eroded by wind and rain; The dead branches and leaves accumulated thick on the ground, faintly releasing the smell of corruption.

Only the cellar cemetery, which is enclosed by a wall, is the best maintained.

The huge and hard stone, not afraid of the sun and rain, still records the forgotten past in the cold wind and frozen soil, and remembers the glory and vicissitudes of a family that once thrived here.

Atwood tied his horse to a small tree and walked slowly to the front of the valley.

Lifting the brim of the cloak that covered most of his face, he looked for familiar traces in his memory with an unfamiliar gaze, gently put his hand on the low wall and stroked the nettle that had been dried, and knelt on the ground to pick up the dry soil and sniff it.

"I'm back....."

I don't know how long it took for him to finally let out a mutter.

Obviously, I was very excited and sentimental in my heart, but it couldn't soothe the slightest emotion when it became a voice poured out.

Winter days in the north are short.

By the time Atwood woke up from his memories, night had crept in.

After placing the horses in a leeward place, Atwood did not look around at the other houses, but walked directly through the leafy yard into the cellar graveyard.

Only Teutonic who died in the war against the centaurs will be buried here.

The family will hold a funeral for these people who have fulfilled their family responsibilities and dedicated themselves to the glory of the family, and burn the items they used during their lifetimes on a firewood stack, and engrave their deeds on the tombstones.

Today, the outermost tombstone bears John's name.

In the spring of the year Atwood left home, John, who was only eighteen years old, was killed in battle.

Such things were common in the Teutons.

Almost half of the Teutonic families, which also followed the primogeniture system, did not survive to the day they inherited the title.

Because most of the men with the Teutonic surname died on the battlefield against the centaurs.

That was Teutonic fate.

Atwood would love to have that fate.

But he knew it was a luxury, at least for now, because there was no longer a Teuton for his funeral.

I am the last Teuton, the Teutonian who betrayed the glory of the surname.

Looking at the tombstone of his brother John, Atwood muttered silently in his heart, quietly waiting for time to pass and wait for the Teutonic ghost to appear.

He was cold, but he didn't dare to make a fire.

He was afraid that the light of the fire would scare the souls of his family.

Curled up against the tombstone, he didn't even dare to move, for fear that the posture he had kept for too long would suddenly stretch and make the joints make a crunching sound, and the souls of his family would not dare to come out.

He was also sleepy.

After many years of wandering, he found an indescribable sense of security in this ruined ruin.

This sense of security made him want to leave everything behind and sleep in the dark.

So he tried to keep his eyes open, and his gaze kept going back and forth in the darkness.

He also put a hand on his thigh, pinched himself hard from time to time, and used pain to resist the attack of sleepiness, for fear that he would miss it because he was asleep, and he was looking forward to the "reunion after a long absence" for more than 20 years.

Time passed bit by bit.

The night was getting deeper.

A strong cold wind surged in from the entrance, sprinting around the cellar graveyard in search of windows and gaps, and then leaving with a joyful sound of breaking free.

Coming and going, back and forth, constantly fiddling with Atwood's mind.

He went to the steppe first, worried that the Teutonic ghost would not come out to see him.

Therefore, in the midst of excitement and anticipation, emotions such as anxiety, loss, helplessness and pleading are also constantly entangled in his heart.

His thighs were already pinched unconscious, his eyes had become numb and dazed, and his mood had become as empty as an empty cemetery.

But he kept waiting.

The only thing he could do was wait.

No matter how long the night is, there will be a light in the end.

Atwood, who had not shed tears since the death of the old retainer who had taken him to the city of Gardinanras to hide, watched the morning light that lit up the skyline, and finally let the tears that had been accumulated for more than twenty years rush down like a great river. After waiting all night without seeing the ghost, the contrast between his state of mind from full of anticipation to extreme loss made him cry heartbreakingly, made him as helpless as an abandoned child, and made him incoherent with grievances and anger.

"Why!?"

"Why don't you come out to see me!?"

"I'm a Teuton!"

"When I was only eight years old, you left me and left, leaving me alone in the world..."

"You know what? I almost forgot the way home~ I can't remember what you look like~"

"It's been more than twenty years, and I've come back alive, but you don't want to see me!"

"Be just, fearless, and never give up! I have always remembered and adhered to the family motto! Although I have not been baptized by family rituals, I am also a Teutonian! ”

"I'm a Teuton, too!"

"Please, come out and see me~"

............